I'm in Love with Gilbert Blythe
by cordeliaflowers
Summary: Written after S3/E8 of Anne with an E aired in Canada; set 15 or so minutes following Anne's big revelation. On the advice of a mentor and friend, Anne summons the courage to speak her truth. [For a rich description of how I imagine the moments after Anne blurts out her true feelings for Gilbert to Diana, read "Just One Thing" by LadyMallen.]


Knock.

Knock …

Knock, knock, knock.

Anne was impatient. It had taken her years to admit her true feelings to herself, let alone confess them aloud. Now, with a new found understanding of who she was and what she wanted, she was ready for action. Her new life waited on the other side of that door. She felt brave and bold, brazen even - nothing could stop her!

She raised her fist to knock louder than any fist had ever knocked when the front door of the Blythe-Lacroix home swung open, almost hitting her in the face. Startled, Anne reached for the door frame but fumbled having lost her balance.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle …" She looked up; it wasn't Gilbert standing before her as she expected, but Bash.

"Absolutely no harm done, my dear friend. Now, what brings you here on this fine summer afternoon?" said Bash. Anne didn't know what to say. How do you tell a person that you've come to bear your soul to his partner and that your heart and all your future happiness hang in the balance? A long pause passed between them, and then slowly the expression on Bash's face changed. She didn't have to say anything, he knew why she'd come.

"Gilbert took the train to Charlottetown this morning, Anne" Bash said, regretfully.

Another long pause. It was uncomfortable, second only in its excruciating quality to the one she'd shared with Gilbert the night before. She'd been thinking about that fateful conversation all evening and had arrived at the conclusion that he'd handled things very poorly. It wasn't fair of him to imply, but not say, that he cared for her. It wasn't fair of him to put the onus entirely on her to decide his future, their future. And, most of all, it wasn't fair of him to expect, nay require, her answer right away after months of openly courting another girl. Until that night, she'd believed that a future with him was impossible. He'd made her believe that. Gilbert was a good-for-nothing lout and she'd be sure to tell him that when they next talked.

Bash, unsure of what to do and how to proceed, took the coward's approach and looked down at his feet.

"I should never have come," said Anne quietly, deflated and embarrassed.

Afraid to offer hope where there was none, yet suspicious that perhaps he knew Gilbert better than Gilbert knew himself, Bash offered this: "He should be back on the seven o'clock train."

"Thank you, Bash," said Anne, unaffected.

She stepped back, away from the entrance, and back again, nearly tumbling down the front steps of Blythe homestead. Recovering for the second time, she reflected on how quaint and familiar this place was to her. She'd spent many fond hours here with Mary and the family. Dear Mary. She hoped these hurt feelings that plagued her now would pass in time and she could return to this happy home with the same sunny disposition she'd had the day she delivered Mary's Easter bonnet.

She was about to turn and head back to Green Gables when she heard a faint, yet familiar, voice. She followed the somewhat odd collection of blustery words and frustrated grunts all the into the backyard where she laid eyes on Miss Stacey who was knee deep in weeds and mud and a right mess, as always.

"Miss Stacey, what are you doing here?" asked Anne.

"I am endeavouring to breathe life into this much loved and much neglected garden. Bash mentioned he was having trouble bringing it back to life when we were speaking yesterday at the creek and, you know me, I do so love a project!" Miss Stacey pulled the brim of her oversized hat off of her eyes to have a proper look at her beloved student and prodigy.

It was clear from first sight that Anne was not herself. Her eyes had a deep dispair about them, and Miss Stacey hardly knew how to process it. Even when Anne had been bullied at school, even when she'd had a fight with Diana or when she'd hurt Josie by writing that controversial article, Anne had always averted the desperate, hopeless melancholy that was written all over her just now.

"What is it, Anne? What's happened?" Miss Stacey asked matter-of-factly.

Anne's eyes welled up with tears. She ran to Miss Stacey and wrapped her arms around her mentor and friend. The words just poured out of her: what Gilbert had said, how poorly she'd responded, her talk with Aunt Jo, her reconciliation with Diana, and her big revelation.

"But it's too late. He's gone and proposed to Winnifred, and I've missed my chance. She's beautiful and perfect and her family offers him everything. I've ruined everything. I am doomed to a life of loneliness and isolation. You know, Miss Stacey, I used to covet a tragical romance. I thought nothing would be more magnificent than having my heart broken. How wrong I was."

"Oh, Anne," said Miss Stacey, awkwardly patting Anne on the arm, unsure of what gesture to use in such a situation. "This world holds so much promise for you. With your imagination, intellect, and fearless belief in what is good and right and just, I am confident that you will do great things. With Gilbert, without him, with someone else, or on your own, you will live a good, full life, Anne. I am sure of it. Go, embrace your liberty!"

Anne smiled at the reference to a novel she and Miss Stacey had both enjoyed. "And if I want to tackle all of this with Gilbert by my side?"

"Well, then it stands to reason that you should probably tell him that. You've never shied away from telling the truth and speaking your mind. What's stopping you?"

She was right, and there was no time like the present. Borrowing a horse, Anne took off at a million miles a minute galloping towards the train station. She would meet Gilbert when he returned from Charlottetown and tell him the God-honest truth, then and there.

It was only when she arrived that she realized she was more than two hours early. Fortunately, she'd brought a notebook and the station attendant had a pencil she could borrow (Gilbert still had her pen, afterall). Unfortunately, she'd skipped lunch on account of being in the depths of despair, and hadn't thought to pack a snack.

Five o'clock came and went and still no train. Then six o'clock. It was almost seven when the sun started to set and the Avonlea skies began to dance and dim. Looking over to her right, she spotted the cherry tree she'd befriended when she first arrived in Avonlea, all aglow and looking as lush and welcoming as ever. She was considering whether a person could actually sleep in a cherry tree when she heard the whistle of the train in the distance.

She sat nervously, chewing on her pencil and tapping her heels against the wooden deck. Blood coursed through her veins at a rate of a million miles a minute. She felt sick with anticipation. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the train came to a top and an attendant hopped off the passenger car and lowered the step stool. A tall blond man excited, and then an elderly couple. Where was Gilbert?

Then she saw him. Drawn to him with a fierce intensity, she leapt from the bench on which she had sat for the last three or so hours and ran in his direction.

"Gilbert! I am so sorry I couldn't … last night, I couldn't … but I can now. Gilbert, I, I …" It was at that precise moment that Winnifed stepped out of the train car and onto the platform, taking Gilbert's arm.

"Hello, Anne."


End file.
